


Silent Night

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Comedic Ending, Half-Sibling Incest, Keeping Quiet, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 05:36:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16469762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: Usually, Jon likes it when Robb gets noisy. But tonight, it's a problem, and they have to find a solution.





	Silent Night

**Author's Note:**

> Kink generator provided: 69 + silence

“Robb!”

Robb groans in disappointment as Jon pulls up and off his cock to speak, staring down with eyes wide and hazy, his lips red and swollen from kissing and biting, his clothing all askew, and his length dripping with Jon's slaver. “What, what is it?” he asks, his hips arching a little beneath Jon's jaw, clearly eager for Jon to get back to what he was doing before.

Jon's cock twitches hard against the mattress at the sight of him, and he too is sorely tempted to forget it all and just get on with it. But he's not that stupid. “You have to be quiet,” he hisses, his voice dropping down into a low whisper. The night air seems especially empty after he says it.

Robb blinks at him, remembering slowly, and then he comes over shame-faced. “Oh, right,” he says, and then chuckles. “I suppose I got caught up in the moment?”

“It's not funny, Robb,” Jon says, his brow wrinkling with worry. Usually, they don't have to be this careful; Jon's bastard's chambers are far enough from everything that the chances of them being heard are pretty remote. Just not now. _Bloody Arya_ , thinks Jon, as fond as ever toward his little sister – but it is damned inconvenient, having her in his wing of the castle ever since she went and flooded Sansa's chambers during one of her pranks ( _I didn't mean to, I only meant to get her clothes wet!_ she insisted) and Sansa insisted on commandeering her rooms while waiting for her own to dry out. Part of Jon wants to ask why his two sisters can't just get along, but then again, their squabbling is clearly more healthy and normal than what he gets up to with his half-brother.

It's not as if he thinks Arya would ever deliberately sell him out – but Arya is just a girl, so who knows what she might say, not realising what it means?

He should never have let Robb come here. He should have told his brother that they had to wait a few days, until they could be sure they wouldn't be caught – but then Robb gave him that smile over dinner, half-wicked, half-bashful, and Jon knew he would do anything.

Jon sighs deeply, meeting Robb's eye once more, watching him chew his bottom lip nervously. It's not as if he doesn't know, what a disaster it would be for the both of them if they were ever caught. “Sorry Jon,” he whispers, but his prick still throbs with need. “Please?”

 _Gods be good_ , thinks Jon, grinding his hips into the mattress once more. How is he meant to say no to that?

Mind made up, Jon bobs his head once more, with a long, slow lick across the underside of Robb's cock. Robb gasps shallowly, but manages not to make any more noise than that. It's Jon who has to struggle not to moan as he swipes his tongue across the slit already dripping salty fluid into his mouth, when he wraps his lips around the thick head. Robb has told him more than once that his mouth is absolutely perfect for this, which Jon finds embarrassing, but also bizarrely flattering. A smothered moan emanates from Robb's body, and as Jon sucks him down, he looks up to see Robb covering his mouth with his hand, trying to keep the noises at bay.

The thing is, usually, Jon _loves_ it when Robb gets noisy. He loves the moans, gasps, whimpers, curses, whines, the vast array of filthy noises he can make his noble brother let out simply with the proper application of his lips and tongue. He loves it when Robb pulls his hair and bucks up so hard it makes him gag, too far gone to remember to be careful. He loves making Robb beg, to be sucked harder, faster, and to come; gods, how he loves it when Robb begs to come. He loves it when he can make Robb lose every inch of lordly composure he might ever have had, make him nothing more than a desperate, willing, _loud_ mess.

But at the moment, he can't afford for Robb to lose _all_ his composure.

Jon takes him in deeper and sucks hard and fast, perhaps hoping that if he does this fast enough Robb won't have time to be overheard. Stupid plan. Robb's whine against his palm is still obscenely noisy, and the muffled sound only makes it seem more suspicious. Jon takes Robb down until he can feel the thatch of auburn hair surrounding his prick graze against his jaw, until the head of his cock juts into Jon's throat, and his own aches down below, because he really does love this, he loves pleasing Robb and he loves how Robb lets him know how pleased he is, but this is not working.

He pulls off again with a forlorn sigh, and Robb whimpers in dismay. “Jon, Jon, I'm sorry,” he babbles, his hand flying from his mouth so he can try and pull Jon closer. “I'll be quiet, I promise, just don't–”

Jon kisses him to shut him up, and also to try and reassure him. He doesn't want Robb to think he's mad about this or anything. It's not his fault. Robb groans and welcomes the kiss eagerly, his tongue hot and desperate in Jon's mouth, grinding up against Jon's thigh and leaving a trail of wetness behind. He's clearly, agonisingly, tantalisingly close, and Jon wants to let him have it, really. It's just a question of how he can without making such a fuss it will be the end of both of them.

He thinks it over a moment, and then breaks the kiss with a pop. “I have an idea,” he says, and Robb raises his eyebrows, clearly getting confused by Jon's constant stops and starts. “Wait there.” Robb looks as if there is nothing he wants to do less, but he's not going to have to wait long, Jon swears.

It's a bit awkward to push himself up and start spinning his body around, but he manages. He only feels more awkward when he settles into postion, his cock displayed in front of Robb's face demandingly. He's careful not to look down, instead to focus on Robb's own cock in front of him, red and swollen and in desperate need of his attentions. “Come on, Stark,” he whispers, and he wiggles his hips a little. “Fair's fair.”

After a moment's pause, Robb gives another soft chuckle. “Oh, I see,” he says, and Jon gasps when Robb's strong hand finds his prick and starts stroking softly. “I need something to keep my mouth busy?”

“Something like that,” Jon whispers, thrusting into his palm a little. He doesn't like the thought he might be doing this for his own sakes, that he's so greedy to have Robb's mouth on his cock that he can't wait until he's finished doing the reverse.

Robb says nothing after that, just brings Jon closer to his mouth and slides his lips over the cock there, sucking him deep and unhesitating. Jon's eyes roll back in his head at the feel of Robb's mouth around him, and he quickly has to take Robb back in to, lest he lose control the same way.

A shudder ripples through Robb's body as Jon starts to bob his head again, but that just spurs him on, taking Jon in deeper to keep his mouth full. Jon does the same, clutching the mattress as he pushes himself down, pushes himself to his limit, writhing and trembling as Robb's throat closes around his prick. _Oh gods be good, yes,_ he thinks, but thankfully any moans they might make aloud are silenced by the cocks in both their mouths.

Robb's fingers dig into his backside, and Jon groans, lapping up the fluid filling his mouth. The room is noiseless apart from the odd muffled grunt or gag, and the constant noise of sucking – nothing anyone could hear through thick stone walls. _Arya won't know a thing,_ thinks Jon, more smug than he can really justify.

He moves his hands and grabs Robb's thighs, the muscles thick and sturdy, and he squeezes hard enough to leave bruises. That makes Robb buck into him and swallow him deeper, until Jon can feel Robb's nose buried in his groin, struggling for breath but clearly loving it, so much. They have always been competitive, like brothers are. Jon moans silently and slips one hand further up, cradling Robb's balls in one hand and rubbing them gently. Then he moves further back, using one finger to tease the sensitive skin between Robb's sack and his rear, gently pressing it against his tiny little hole.

That's too much, apparently, as Robb suddenly spills in his mouth with a muffled groan. Jon swallows it all without thinking, and without much effort, making him wonder if he's perhaps _too_ practiced at this.

He keeps sucking until Robb's prick starts to withdraw under his attentions, and he whines with overstimulation. Jon pulls his head up, out of breath, and when he tries to gasp for air he hears himself suddenly cry out: “Ah!”

Robb clearly isn't going to let himself come without making Jon follow right after – again, he can be competitive (nevermind that he clearly had quite the headstart). His mouth on Jon's prick turns vicious, sucking like he's been starved for months and cock is the only thing that can feed him, grabbing his arse with both hands so he can take it deeper, gagging on every thrust. _Oh god,_ thinks Jon, and he quickly has to turn his head and bite Robb's thigh, hard, just so he won't shout to the rooftops.

Robb jumps at that, but it doesn't give him pause; his mouth only tightens around Jon's cock, his tongue curled expertly underneath, and he moans softly through his choked noises. Jon sucks the skin beneath his mouth and tries not to groan too loud, but it's too much, he knows it's too much. _I'm going to come,_ he thinks, and desperately, he digs his nails into Robb's thighs in warning.

He's not sure if it really works, but Robb's tongue curls around his head and that's it; Jon starts to spill with a terrible shudder, burying his whine in Robb's skin. Robb pulls off with a gasp, and Jon feels a hand wrap around his prick instead, wringing him dry. As his peak rocks through him, turns his mind white and then slowly fades away, he rolls his eyes while also his cock twitches. Robb wants his come on his face, of course he does. He always wants that.

It's not going to make hiding this any easier.

Jon all but collapses once he's finished, using Robb's thigh as a pillow. He knows how silly he must look, but he's tired. Robb indulges him for few moments, then nudges him. “Alright, Snow, get up,” he says. “You're just going to get dizzy in that position.”

“Piss off,” mumbles Jon, but he lets Robb pull him the right way up again, until he's curled against Robb's chest, cuddling into him. He pushes his head up, and Robb smiles at him, before leaning in for a kiss. They share the taste of each other and themselves, and Jon groans, his cock twitching once more. It would be easy to get caught up in it, to work each other up enough that they fall into another go without even thinking about it.

However, they've probably already pushed their luck too far.

Jon breaks the kiss with a reluctant sigh. “You should get back to your chambers,” he says. Usually he might let Robb stay a little longer, only send him back once the dawn is breaking, but with Arya, you never know when she'll be up. They ought to take advantage of the opportunity while she seems to be asleep. Not that that makes it easy.

Robb looks just as reluctant. “Right,” he says, and kisses Jon again – just on his brow this time, chastely. “Right.” He sits up, and wipes the come from his chin, cleaning his hand on Jon's sheets.

Jon raises an eyebrow. “I have to sleep on that, you know.”

“Shut up, Snow,” Robb answers as he reaches for his clothes, and then he looks back over his shoulder with a smirk. “After all, we don't want to wake anyone up.”

Jon snorts, but says nothing as he watches Robb getting dressed. Once he's done, Robb turns to him once more and sighs. “Well, here I go.”

“Here you go.” But Jon pulls him in for one more soft kiss anyone. He can hardly help himself.

Robb smiles into the kiss, then pulls away. “Goodnight, Jon.”

“Goodnight.”

And as he creeps outside, shutting the door as quietly as he can, Jon lies on his back and sighs. It was a good night. Despite the secrecy and the panic, it was a very good night.

* * *

“Wake up.”

Blearly-eyed, Sansa slowly extracts herself from her sleep to see a figure standing overhead – small, dark-haired, and deeply annoying. “What are you doing here?”

“I can't sleep,” Arya answers, not even bothering to ask before popping herself down on the mattress. “And these are my rooms.”

Sansa glares. “Yes, and you agreed I could have them while mine were ruined, remember? Because _you_ ruined them?” Really, she thought that was an ideal solution; even Father agreed! Arya's always going on about how she doesn't care about fancy things, and she adores Jon, so you'd think getting to share his bastard's quarters would be her favourite thing. Really, Sansa's the one who should be complaining here – Arya's bed is bizarrely uncomfortable.

Arya rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but that was before I realised how noisy Jon can be. Move over.” She pulls off the furs and climbs underneath, and Sansa opens her mouth to protest, but somehow she knows there's no point.

Another question springs to mind though. “Wait, what do mean, 'noisy'?” Their bastard brother could be described as many things, but noisy really isn't one them.

“Just noisy,” says Arya, and Sansa rolls on her side to glare at her. Arya shrugs. “Maybe he has a girl in there, I don't know.”

“ _Arya_!”

“Or he's just doing it by himself!” Arya says, laughing at her scandalised face. That only makes Sansa blush deeper. Such things seem utterly beneath her brother, but either way, she does not want to think about it anymore. “The point is, he's keeping me up, and I need somewhere to sleep. Come on, I promise you won't even realise I'm here.”

Sansa snorts. “That's a lie,” she says. “You're the noisiest person I've ever met.”

“Trust me, I'm really not.”

Sansa hits her.


End file.
